


Iron and Snow

by Nymmie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, House Greyjoy, House Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymmie/pseuds/Nymmie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa was a lady, and ladies don't behave like this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters (though if I did I would be super awesome) George R R Martin does!

Sansa was a lady, and as a lady, you did not throw yourself at a man you fancy. You can admire from afar, never allowing anyone to know your true feelings. A lady must be poised and in control. Theon did not make this an easy task.

She had grown up with her father's ward, and knew him like a brother. As the years progressed, he became less like a brother, and more an interest. Her feelings became less sisterly and more flirty.

Sansa had become quite beautiful. Her long auburn hair was always kept tidy, brushed out for hours a night. Her dresses were always fitted perfectly to her womanly frame, clean and tidy. Those were the best words to describe Sansa. Clean and tidy.

Theon was Theon. His light brown curls always wind blown, cheeks always flushed and a smile on his small lips. His eyes played constantly, even in serious situations, they just couldn't help it.

Sansa loved the way they looked her over when she came in to the room. The way his cheeks flushed a bit when she brushed his arm in conversation. His gaze lingered longer each time they spoke, and Sansa's lip hurt from her teeth biting down on it to keep herself together.

The hallway to Sansa's bedchamber was long, and she had left her company that night to retire to her bed. Her hand had just grazed the door handle when hands encircled her hips. Sansa let out a small gasp before one hand replaced itself on her mouth. The stranger removed their hand after a few moments, and Sansa dared not scream. The hand moved her hair aside and small kisses began to cover the soft skin of her neck. Her eyes widened and she stood stiffly, not wanting to move and make the stranger angry.  
The strangers mouth found her ear and laid a few kisses on it before whispering. "Why so stiff, My Lady." She recognized the voice immediately, Theon. She turned around, shoving his chest angrily. He had his usual smile, and laughed when his back hit the wall behind them. "What's wrong, My Lady. You don't want my love?" he asked, still laughing. His face feigned hurt and he pouted.

"Are you insane!?" Sansa whispered harshly to him. She turned her head away from him so he couldn't see her cheeks blushing. She opened the door to her bedchamber, expecting Theon to turn away and leave, but he pushed himself in behind her, shutting the door swiftly. She turned around to protest and see him out of her chamber when his lips found hers. They were warm and sweet, wine played on them and her head spun.  
Sansa knew this was not how a lady acted, how a young woman should act. Her lips had never kissed more than her brothers foreheads. Now she found them pressed against the Prince of the Iron Islands. His hands had found her waist again, and squeezed her hips tightly. She couldn't move, whether his hands kept her in one spot or it was her own free will. Her lips had begun to move against his with out her even knowing, and she felt him sigh against her.  
"No... Theon, please. I can't." she said, pulling herself away. Her face turned from him and she kept her eyes cast down. His fingers lifted her chin to him, pressing his lips back against hers. Sansa's head was clouded. All she could think about was how incredible his mouth was against hers, how he smelled of earth and wine, and how is body pressed so tightly against her own.  
Sansa gave in.  
Their lips danced together, tongues playing in each others mouths. She lost herself in him. He lifted her and brought her to the bed, placing her down gently on the ground beside it, his fingers fumbling with her laces against her back. She pushed his chest back a bit, trying to show some control, but she was helpless against him. Her dress fell to the floor, and Theon wasted no time ripping her small clothes from her chest and taking a breast in his mouth.

His experienced tongue quickly hardened her nipple, and she shuddered, leaning against him for support. He had done this before, but Sansa had never exposed herself to a man like this. He licked and sucked, using his other hand and tugging her other nipple between his fingers. When he had his fill of her bust, he lifted her again placing her on the bed. He quickly followed, crawling up in between her legs and grabbing the back of her head, kissing her feverishly once more. 

Sansa sighed against him, all caution gone in an instant. She wanted this, she needed him. It was hard being a Lady all of the time, and it felt good to let go.  
What remained of her small clothes hanging off of her waist were cast to the floor. Sansa fumbled, trying to cover herself, but Theon grabbed bost wrists, pinning them above her head and raining kisses from her forehead down to her belly. When his hands let go of her wrists, Sansa kept her arms above her head willingly. His beard tickled it's way down from her stomach to top of her mound, his chin resting in the small auburn curls.

"You have given up the fight, Lady Stark." Theon said, looking up to her with eyes bright and his usual smile. "Because once I begin, you will not want me to stop." he said, letting a finger trace her slit causing her to shudder involuntarily. "I will take that as a yes." he said, plunging a finger inside of her wet core. Her gasp was music to his ears as his tongue explored her clit gently. Her legs had parted to allow him free reign, and her arms had stayed exactly where he wanted them too.

Theon felt her tightening up, knowing her release was close, he stopped suddenly. Sansa let out a growl, causing Theon to laugh. "My Lady, I don't want you to cum on my fingers, I want you to cum somewhere else." he said. Sansa looked down at his manhood, hard and in his hand with wetness pooled at the top. 

Sansa bit her lip, but nodded him on. Her cares replaced by exitment and lust. Theon wasted no time sliding in to her, groaning as she stretched to fit him perfectly. He started off slow, thrusting gently and kisses her breasts. Sansa still kept her teeth tight on her bottom lip and her eyes were squeezed shut. Theon picked up his pace a bit, sliding in and out, thrusting back in a little harder each time. Sansa moaned low in her throat and her arms which had been by her head moved to his neck, legs wrapping around his waist and ankles locked behind his ass, pulling him closer. 

There lips found one another again, old friends finding their rythm, tongues caressing. Theon was lost in her, sliding himself uncontrollably within Sansa. She felt unbelieveably good. Sansa's eyes went wide as her release came on suddenly, her walls throbbing against his cock and her breathe coming in small pants as she squeezed him against her. Theon could not control his own seed from spilling into her as she came. His member throbbing against her tightened walls. He collapsed on her, not wanting to pull out, not yet.  
They lay there, sweat and passion, before Theon slid off and onto the floor, picking up his breeches and doing the laces. Sansa lifted herself up onto her elbows, looking at him. Her perfect hair for once was a tangle around her face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half lidded.

Theon took her in, crawling back on to the bed to kiss her once more. She was too perfect in that moment, a goddess among commoners. "I'll be back, My Lady, as often as you wish to take me." he said, bowing slightly in a comical way making Sansa giggle. He pulled his shirt on and headed for the door, turning around to bid her a goodnight. Theon was not one for long drawn out emotional talks, and what had happened was so amazing, he did not wish to ruin it with talk.

Sansa for once felt the same, letting her head fall back against the bed as her door clicked shut, she drifted off to sleep naked and a woman.


	2. Night Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Godswood was a place of prayer, a place of serenity, a place for love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these characters, but damnit I would love too! They belong to the wonder George R R Martin. LONG LIVE THE TRUE KING!

It was all she could do to hold herself together, to keep from sobbing. All she had ever wanted was a Prince of her own, one she could marry and bear sons to. But not him, not evil incarnate. He was not her Prince, she could not bear his children. She could not sit beside him and smile. He was not hers.

Joffrey Baratheon sat on the high seat beside his Queen mother Cercei, smiling down at her every so often. She kept the food in her stomach down, thinking of lovlier thoughts. Ones of books, and knights. Of flowers and sewing. Anything but his nightmarish face. 

The past few days had blurred together. The incident at the Trident, the killing of her Direwolf Lady, her fights with Arya. They had her angry and confused, wanting nothing more than to be at home. Back in Winterfell with her brothers, her septon and lessons, the familiar things that she took for granted.  
After the dinner was cleared away and she was escorted back to her chambers, the tears fell freely, as they had been doing when she found herself alone. They fell until she had no more to give, and then she fell asleep. Every night, as sure as the sun rose and set, she wept.

When the sun rose she broke her fast alone in her chambers on black bread and fried fish. Her stomach allowed her to finish a few bites before it turned against her. She pushed the plate away and her hand maidens came in to dress her. She was led down to the Throne room for the anointing of the new Kingsguard, and it was looking to be an ordinary day until she saw him.

Her yes lit up as she stared into the crowd. He was there, his eyes met hers and his smile made her feel at home. He crept closer, keeping his eyes away and sneaking to where he was within ear shot. The crowd was clapping for the annointed knights when Theon slipped the small roll of parchment into her hand.  
The Godswood, evening.

Sansa rolled the parchment back up and slipped it into her bust, giving the Hound a look, but he was not paying attention, his eyes on Joff.  
Night could not come quick enough, when she was left in her bedchambers. She grabbed her cloak and headed out into the nights air, across the drawbridge. They all knew who she was, the guards, and no one disturbed her as she went out to pray.

He was leaning against the weirwood, eating an apple as if it were another evening. As if he were not at King's Landing and she was not betrothed. It reminded her of her childhood with him, the carefreeness of it all. He tossed the core away from him, and grasped her hands in his, placing kisses on her knuckles, soft and sweet. She blushed.  
"Theon... what are you doing here... you should be... with Robb." she said, her heart skipping beats as her hands tingled from his lips.

"Robb is a big man now, My Lady, and can care for himself. He is the Lord at Winterfell you know." he said, as evenly as he could. "He waits for Bran to open his eyes, he holds your mother while she cries." he said, shrugging. "I do not belong there." he said, letting her hands drop to her sides.

"Theon, you do belong there with Robb. You are his brother by choice, his friend and counsel." she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The wind sent a chill through them both, and Theon reached out for her shoulders, giving them a squeeze to warm her. Sansa smiled at his touch, so effortless and sweet. 

"There are not many nights I do not think of you, my Lady Sansa. Your soft lips, and supple breasts. I have had many a woman in my short life, but you my Lady are superior to them all. You have left me broken with out your touch." he said, his breath becoming staggered and his manhood straining against his breeches.

"I am a Lady engaged, to the future King at that." she said to him sternly, though the lust in his eyes made her shiver.

"We all know you do not want him, San. You are a woman who loves and wants to marry for love not title. I could be your Prince, and we could live out our days in the Iron Islands, together. I would take no salt wives, I would be yours." he said, pulling her to him so quickly, she had no time to protest. His lips placing kisses on her forehead softly.

She pushed against him, but it was halfhearted. She did not want the Iron born to ever let her go. It had been a torturous month with out him, pretending to not miss him during the day and getting lost in the thoughts of their last coupling late in to the night when her hands found their way into her small clothes and fingers pushed into herself. The thoughts made her sigh, and Theon knew she suffered the same.

"Run with me, Lady Sansa. Be my wife." he said, ravaging her face with kisses, his hands holding the nape of her neck, strong and calloused. "Be my Winter wife, and I will be your Iron husband." he said, his mouth finding hers. 

The sweet scent of forest swirled around them as they kisses, frenzied and feverishly. The cold did not bother them as they became one. Theon lifted her up, pushing her against he weirdwood, and sucking her neck. She sighed against him, her skirts pulled up to her knees and ankles locked around his back, much like before. He licked at the top of her breasts, pushing from her dress line, beckoning him to devour them. He kept her against the tree with his force alone, one hand under a thigh, and the other groped her chest.  
They were behind the tree now, away from the castle and any watching eyes. "Let them see." she thought defiantly, the thought brought a small smile to her, partly from her recklessness, partly from Theon who had wrestled a breast out from the gown and sucked frenzied on the hardened nipple. His cock so taught she thought his breeches might burst.

She grabbed his shoulders, and motioned to be let down. Her feet touched the forest floor, and before he knew it, her fingers fumbled with his laces, letting his pants hit the leaf strewn floor. He shivered, and wrapped his hands around his chest while Lady Sansa, the proper maiden, bent down and took him fully in her mouth.

His eyes closed, he could not believe what was happening. Who was sucking his cock. It could not be Sansa, this was not Sansa. She had him so far in her throat, she stiffled a gag, using her hand to hold the shaft while her tongue played with the bottom, circling the head slowly. Jeyne had told her all the ways men liked to be touched, and she had plenty of experience with that matter.

He grabbed at her hair, the tree, whatever he could to keep himself from falling over in ecstasy. She bobbed on him, her auburn locks lifting with the wind. He could feel himself tightening, his release coming soon, and he mumbled to her, "I'm...'s close." Her eyes looked up and met his, such perfect blue, so lusty, he lost his seed in her mouth at once, and the Lady swallowed it all. Theon sat down, naked bottom on the floor, before falling back and letting his hands fall behind his head. Sansa giggled, crawling up and over his naked legs, and his shrinking manhood.

She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, and brushed his hair with her hand. She looked back at the castle sadly, and whispered to him that she must go, although she did not want too. Theon sat up, pulling his breeches back on, his face stony. He shook his head, and readjusted the cloak that had long fallen from his shoulders. 

"I will marry you, my Lady Sansa. Whether you like it or not." he said, smiling at her as she turned and left him, briskly walking back to the drawbridge, stealing a few looks back at her Iron born lover. His face falling in the dark.

No tears fell that night.


	3. Fuck the Godswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hound can be sneaky for such a large man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these characters, but fuck I wish I did. George R R Martin all the way

The Hound had crept silently behind his little bird, watching her disappear into the Godswood, and following shortly after. He kept his shadow out of her sight, slinking through the trees. The thick trunks barely concealing his large form. He could hardly believe his eyes, the Iron born from Winterfell stood by the weirwood, leaning against his large trunk lustily watching his little bird. 

He wished he could snap his pretty little privileged neck. How dare he sneak about the castle having secret midnight rendezvous with Sansa Stark. She was betrothed damnit!   
She held his hands in her small pale ones, looking into his eyes like a swooning maid at a tourney. The Hound kept a snarl low in his throat, steadily rising. He was very much his namesake. Make him angry and his bite was fatal. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he stalked his pretty little bird.

The Iron born had grasped her shoulders, speaking to her in a tone too low for the Hound to hear. The boys eyes locked on to Lady Sansa's with such ferocity. Before The Hound could make a move to stop this, he kissed her. Passionately on the lips, holding his little bird tight to him. The broke apart, and kissed again, their breath coming out in ragged pants almost too quiet for The Hound to hear. 

The Hound was enraged, appalled at this behavior. Not his little bird, not Lady Sansa. She was too pure, too clean, too innocent. The magic in her eyes was so trusting, and The Hound could not believe he was looking at the same girl he had grown so fond over. He also could not believe how rock hard he had become.

He glanced down at his breeches, the mast poking out, straining against the leather fabric. The Hound was a large man, which meant his cock was very very large as well, and it was painfully begging to be released. He could not focus with his manhood prodding out, so he fumbled with his laces, letting his member spring out and stand tall in front of him. Just for a moment, he thought, until it can control itself.

But could he control himself? No, not as his little bird fell to her knees. Not as she fumbled with the Iron Borns laces, and released his large cock from it's hold, and not as she took it in her hands, sliding it into her mouth so delicately. The Hound let out a whimper of distress, a silent plea for the Gods, or whomever to let this be just a sick dream. His cock throbbed and bounced in front of him, and he grabbed at it, trying to put it back in to his breeches. His fingers just excited him more.

He was beat. The Hound could only take so much torture from his little bird, the way her head bobbed up and down over the Iron Born's cock, the way he leaned his self against the weirwood for support, running his fingers through Lady Sansa's hair as he moaned and groaned and shoved his manhood further into her waiting mouth.

His hand was rubbing, furiously with out his consent. Up and down the long shaft, pumping in time with his little bird's movements. His teeth gritted in his mouth, eyes shutting in silent extacy and reopening quickly to take in more of the little bird's act, so perfectly done he felt she had practiced before. 

The Iron Born let out his breath so quickly, the wold fell hushed. The Hound watched as he pushed his hips in small erratic movements towards his little bird's face, releasing his seed into her throat. The Hound clawed at the tree in front of him, his hand moving faster, his forehead resting on his arm in front of him, pushing his hips forward as he pictured entering his sweet little bird. Her warm core, wet and ready to take him all of him. Her small mouth pursed in sweet wanting and his seed filling her up, hot, their bodies together.

The Hound felt his seed, warm and sticky fall in spurts on to the large tree in front of him, onto his hand as well. It kept coming for a long time, the orgasm taking over. He balls clenched with each release, making him shudder in it's wake. And then it was over, and his little bird was up, rubbing the Iron Born's cheek and walking away. Unaware that she had just given The Hound his best orgasm ever, and made him wish he was Iron Born then.


End file.
